


Survivors

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Elves, M/M, Orcs, Slavery, War Aftermath, almost genocide, master/slave role reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dark Queen is defeated, good has triumphed over evil once more. What happens now to the orcs who served her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivors

"Rokkar… Rokkar!"

"Shut the fucking beast up or I will shut it permanently!" The angry shout of the human guard was accompanied by him banging his truncheon against the bars of the cage.

Goram quickly clamped his hand over Troth's mouth, who was twisting in fevered dreams, crying out for his fallen mate. He held the younger orc down when he struggled. Troth had been injured badly in the final battle. With no medical aid, it was only his sturdy nature that had kept him alive so far.

Not that there seemed to be much point in surviving. Goram had no clue why the humans had bothered to take them prisoner when they had surrendered. Had it been his own people, they would have taken prisoners either as loot to keep as slaves or as tribute to give to the Dark Queen as sacrifices. But to his knowledge humans did neither. Still, he had commanded his troops to lay down their weapons and surrender when they felt the Dark Queen die. There simply was no reason to fight anymore, there was nothing to win for them. He had expected them to be cut down, had hoped for a quick death. Instead, they were rounded up, disarmed and caged like beasts in one of the camps outside the city where they had been taken after the battle.

Maybe the humans planned some colourful executions as part of their victory celebrations. They had plenty of reasons to exact revenge on the monsters who had ravaged their lands.

That these monsters had never been given any choice in the matter was of no consequence.

The guard moved on, satisfied that his demand had been met. Goram released Troth, taking care not to scratch him with his broken claws. The wounded warrior's cries had subsided to little whines and occasional shudders. Even in the flickering light of the few torches that illuminated the space between the cages Goram could see that his skin was more grey than green now. He would likely not make it through the night.

"What did he say?" Werl asked softly.

He was one of the youngest survivors. A pup, barely old enough to hold a weapon. He hadn't had a chance to learn any of the human tongue. In the end, the Dark Queen had grown so desperate she had thrown anything she had against the attackers. Not that it had done her any good. Her tower lay in ruins now, the vast caverns beneath her lands had collapsed within days, no longer sustained by her magic. What had been her dark dominion, filling the hearts of her enemies with terror, was nothing but ashes and destruction anymore.

"To be quiet." Shazar answered Werl's question, while at the same time reassuringly patting the pup's leg. Werl snuggled closer against him, hiding his face against the grizzled warrior's chest, seeking protection from the constant drizzle that had started falling a few hours ago.

Goram nodded to his second in command, grateful that he wasn't alone in trying to take care of these pitiful remains of a once great army, feared by all the so called 'free races' of the three realms. It had taken the humans, dwarfs and elves years to put aside their difference to form an alliance against the greater evil of the Dark Queen. By that point, none of the Queen's generals had still expected them to recover from their losses, reclaim their lost territories and mount an effective offensive.

Arrogant fools, all of them, Goram thought bitterly. He and his fellow captains serving on the front had sent countless warnings when rumours started of a dwarven champion, aided by a human sorceress and an elven thief; heroes who united their races and accomplished deeds that would still be sung about in centuries. Liberators of the free races, they were called.

That they had also freed the orcs and other minions of the Dark Queen from her control they would probably never learn and even if they did, Goram had his doubts that they would care. Heroes needed terribly monsters to vanquish. It wouldn't sound half as heroic in their songs when the monsters they had fought had been victims as much as the noble free races.

"What will they do with us now?" Werl asked from the safety of Shazar's embrace. He sounded small and hopeless. Not like a proud orc warrior. Just a scared child who had been thrown into a war he couldn't understand. He looked first at Goram and then up at Shazar, begging for some kind of reassurance.

Their eyes met and in Shazar's eyes Goram saw his own frustration reflected. They had no hope to give.

"We don't know, little one." Shazar said roughly, cuffing the pup's torn ear with a gentleness that belied his words. "Now be still and sleep."

The young orc obediently closed his eyes, but Goram could tell from his uneven breathing that it took him a long time until he finally succumbed to exhaustion. Only when the pup's limbs sprawled relaxed, did Shazar speak again, quietly not to wake the kid.

"What do you think they want with us?" he repeated Werl's question.

Goram tiredly rubbed his brow, dried blood and dirt mixing with rain water forming a muddy mess on his thick hide. "I truly have no idea." He answered. He looked around at the other cages. "How many have they taken? A hundred perhaps? Quite a few more must have escaped. But not many are left. They have a chance to wipe out our race. I can't see why they would waste it."

"So they will kill us." Shazar's statement was calm.

He had resigned himself to death, Goram knew. They both had, weeks ago, when they realized what took the Queen much longer to accept.

The ghost of a smile crossed Shazar's lips, even as twisted as they were around his broken off tusk. "Didn't think it would end like this." He said. "Always reckoned I would die fighting."

Goram shrugged. Dying with sword in hand, proud, strong. That was what every orc warrior should strive for. Still he had ordered them to lay down their arms, to give themselves up to the victors. All the blood, the pain, the death had seemed so pointless after months and months of fighting. He had just wanted it to end.

"Don't be sorry." Shazar surprised him. "It's better this way. It feels good to have my own mind back, however short a while I will have it. I thank you for that, brother."

It was an unexpectedly thoughtful statement from an orc who had always been mostly about acting and had left the thinking to Goram. It was also very true. Without the Dark Queen's grip on their minds, they would have fled her cause long ago.

Shazar leaned his head back against the bars behind him, his eyes slipping closed. Goram watched him fall asleep. He ached from the various scraps and bruises he had gained in that last battle, but sleep didn't come to him for a long time still. With every other general and leader gone, they all looked to him now. And all he could offer them was death.

-

It felt like only minutes had passed when Goram was prodded awake and heard Shazar's low voice. "Wake up. I think they are looking for you."

Goram blinked sleep and confusion from his eyes, his hands instinctively reaching for weapons that were no longer there, the clatter of the heavy chains on his wrists quickly bringing him to full attention. The sun was high in the sky already, telling him that he must have slept many hours, even though he didn't feel rested at all.

"Who is?" He asked, sitting up straighter and getting his bearings.

Shazar silently pointed at a trio of humans who were walking from cage to cage, checking the imprisoned orcs carefully. They were equipped with high quality armour and weapons and wore the crest of the highest ranked human rulers.

Goram was about to ask what made Shazar think that they were looking for him when one of the three poked an orc close to the bars with the butt of his spear. "Goram. Who are?" he barked in broken Orcish. It was to the prisoner's credit that he didn't even glance Goram's way even though he knew him well enough. He just shrugged and stupidly stared at the human. "Stupid beast." The Man muttered under his breath in his own language. He turned away and failed to notice how the orc's eyes narrowed in impotent fury. He understood the human language perfectly well.

He had no idea why any human would know his name, but Goram had no doubt it wouldn't mean anything good. So he ducked his head and tried to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. Not an easy feat for a creature his size. Even among his brethren, he still towered a head taller than most.

It turned out he needn't have bothered. They didn't just know his name, they also had a description.

"Here!" One of them shouted as soon as they came to his cage. "This one is red-haired!"

Goram silently cursed his unusual colouring along with all the luck that had deserted him and his race.

"You!" The human prodded him with his spear, once more trying his hand at Orcish and terribly mangling the consonants. "Name?"

There was no point in denying his identity. They would probably have beaten it out of him, now that their suspicion was roused. Or worse, beaten it out of one of the other prisoners.

"I am Goram." He answered in Orcish, deciding not to reveal how well he spoke their language.

A nasty grin showed on the human's face, mirrored on his companions' features. "Guard!" he shouted, "Unlock the cage! We are taking this one up to the castle!"

The urge to fight them was overwhelming. Only when Goram felt his own claws dig into his palms, balling his hands to hard fists, did he realize what he was doing. This was not a fight he could hope to win. A quick glance at Shazar showed him that his friend was tensing up as well, ready to attack at his slightest signal. Goram forced himself to relax and gave Shazar a minute shake of his head. He got up when one of the guards unlocked the cage and allowed himself to be prodded from it docilely.

"Take care of them." He told Shazar who nodded unhappily. Neither of expected to see the other again.

"Silence, beast!" One of the human trio snarled at him and painfully poked his spear in Goram's back.

He could have killed the man. Probably his two companions, too. But not all the soldiers in this camp, not all the humans and elves and dwarves camped nearby and housed in the city. They had lost and there was nothing left to fight for, he reminded himself again and again as he was led through the city towards the castle.

The city and castle still showed plenty of traces of the two sieges it had fallen to. One four years ago, when the Dark Queen's forces took the city, one only a month ago when the alliance of the free races took it back. Hardly any population remained. The few humans who had still been kept as slaves had either been killed in or fled after the second siege.

There were plenty of soldiers of all three free races in the streets. Even with his head lowered and looking at no one, Goram caught the hostile snarls and angry calls when he was led by. No one stopped the men, though, their uniforms seemed to command quite some respect. They were also reasonably competent in guarding him. They severely underestimated his strength and agility right along with his intellect, though. Not that it truly mattered. He was smart enough not to try anything.

The castle itself had suffered quite a bit from the first siege, but been repaired and re-enforced since. Goram had been stationed here a while himself. The only way the castle could have fallen so quickly to the allied forces of the free races was through treachery. It made him wonder who had let them in and if the traitor had been shown mercy, for surely it must have been a high ranked servant of the Dark Queen. Only those had been free enough in their decisions to even consider betraying her.

The guards at the castle gate frowned when they approached.

"Where do you think you are taking that beast?" One of them asked, clearly not pleased by the thought of having an orc inside the fortress walls.

"The Srinash of the elves sent for him." The leader of his trio of humans answered calmly. "You want to explain to the pointy ears why we argue with their holy seer dude?"

Goram had never heard the title before, even though he prided himself on knowing quite a bit more about elves and their customs then most orcs.

The guards seemed to know exactly who the human escorting Goram was talking about. He frowned, but gestured to the others to let them pass. "Keep an eye on the beast, yeah?" he asked, glaring at Goram who kept his head low.

"Don't worry." The human once more poked Goram with the sharp end of his spear, prodding him forward. "He'll die real painfully if he tries anything."

Goram was led through corridors bare of any decoration. Any signs of the Dark Queen had been removed. He wasn't surprised when he was taken to the wing of the castle which contained the better living quarters. Whoever this 'seer' was, it sounded like he was a pretty high ranking elf. Goram had still no idea how the elf could possibly not only know his name but also how he looked, but he tried not to think about it. He told himself there was nothing he could do anyway.

The leader of the human trio stopped at a door and knocked politely. It took a while until a voice from inside called "Come in." It sounded vaguely familiar to Goram.

His guards pushed him inside, into a rather lavishly furnished room. Thick tapestries covered the walls, a huge divan with embroidered pillows in blues and greens, a low table of dark wood, inlaid with gold, several lamps of precious coloured glass. After the austere corridor, the room felt gaudy to Goram.

The occupant of the room waiting for them fit that description too, clad in long, silken robes of white and green, thickly embroidered with silver. Goram chanced a look up at his face, trying to place where he might have heard that voice before. For a moment his mind denied what his eyes told him but there was no mistaking the delicate elven features, the pale hair, now artfully cut, when Goram knew perfectly well that it was painfully short because he himself had hacked it off.

'Sweet', he whispered soundlessly.

Then he was brought to his knees by a well placed kick to the back of his knees, just managing to brace himself against the floor with his bound hands.

"We found your orc." The human reported needlessly.

"I can see that." The elf answered tersely in a tone Goram had never heard from him before. "You may leave us."

"What?" The human sounded quite adverse to that suggestion. "We can't leave you alone with this beast, highness. He may be bound but he is…"

"Entirely harmless." The elf finished. "Isn't that so, Goram?"

He would gladly have answered, gladly have agreed, but he wasn't given the chance as he suddenly no longer was in control of his own body. It was the same burning pain as when the Dark Queen made her presence known, only a thousand times worse. He was a helpless observer in his own body, watching as he pressed his face to the floor, demeaning himself, groaning in pain.

"As you can see, I have him well in hand." The elf's cold voice seemed to come from far away. "Now you will leave or I will make you leave."

Goram didn't hear them leave. His blood seemed to be on fire, racing agony through his body, he was whimpering pitifully and he would have begged if he could.

And then it ended, as suddenly as it had begun. He gasped, trying to remain on his knees, black spots dancing in his vision. Then there were small cool hands, steadying his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Goram, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it would hurt." Orcish words from that elven voice which was no longer cold, but worried and warm.

He blinked away tears of pain and managed to raise his head enough to look into the pale blue eyes of the elf who was now kneeling opposite him. Eyes that were now filled with concern and warmth.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't make sense of how his Sweet could be here. He had hoped that the elfling would somehow escape the camp where he had left him behind or that he would be found once the last of the Dark Queen's forces had been defeated. Surely the alliance of free races would care for all those freed slaves. Surely his Sweet would be welcomed back by his own people. But he was no seer. He was just a pretty elfling with clever fingers and a smart mouth. He did not wield magic that could bring Goram to his knees with but a word. If he did, why would he have served as Goram's slave for years?

He tried to form a question through the burning still lingering in his throat, but Sweet's tongue was quicker than his, as it usually was.

"I'm so glad I've found you!" he exclaimed, "I was so scared you had died in that battle. But I hoped and I know how good you are at staying alive so I talked those guards into looking for you." He smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. "You're alive!" And then he threw his arms around Goram abandoning all restraint to hug him.

Goram tried to keep up with the changes in his elfling's behaviour, but failed miserably. No, he corrected himself, no longer his elfling. He was the one in chains on his knees. Not that this seemed to deter Sweet in the slightest. His next words still sent Goram's mind reeling even more.

"Now that I've found you we can make plans to escape." Sweet chattered happily. "How many of the others are still alive? We need to rescue them too!"

"Sweet, what… wait." Goram finally managed to say something. "How are you… what are you doing here…? Escape…?"

"Of course." Sweet let go of him to look at him once more. "We'll free whoever is still alive and then we'll escape. Did you think I would sit on my ass and watch whatever they are planning to do to you?"

"I…" Truthfully he had not thought about anything concerning Sweet going any further than the hope that he would be safe now. "Sweet, why would you… you are safe now…" He tried to put his confusion into words.

He was rewarded with a fierce scowl. "I will not abandon you!"

"You… Sweet, you were my slave."

For a long moment the young elf just stared at him, his mouth working soundlessly, trying to form words, his eyes burning with many emotions that Goram couldn't quite grasp.

When Sweet finally spoke his voice was surprisingly calm. "You know that is not true."

"Of course it is true." Goram insisted. "I used you, I beat you."

Sweet's smile was calm and reminiscent. "You only ever beat me when I deserved it. And you never used me."

"I fucked you!"

Now that smile grew dirty in that entirely irresistible way that never failed to make Goram hard and his heart melt. "Only after I made you." Sweet licked his lips with a delicate tip of his tongue. "You'd never have touched me if I hadn't made you."

He was right, of course. Goram remembered all too vividly how his sweet little elfling had grown up into a feral thing that demanded to be touched, that didn't take no for an answer, that showed no fear at Goram's size, snarled and scratched and bit with a passion and fervour that would have done any orc proud.

He swallowed hard.

He had invested a lot of time into convincing everyone that Sweet was no more than his plaything. He had never really succeeded in convincing himself. But they had never talked about it. Orcs didn't talk. Orcs didn't 'feel'. They were beasts.

Only they weren't. He wasn't.

"You saved me when I was only a filthy, long eared child, about to be eaten by those trolls." Sweet spoke softly now. "You shared your own food with me 'cause I was starving. You beat anyone who tried to take me to a bloody pulp. You brought me sweet cakes when you came home from raiding. You sang me lullabies when I fell ill with the swamp fever."

"I didn't know you knew that." Goram whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, I know." Sweet replied. "I don't care if you call me your slave as long as I am yours. Yours is what I will hear."

Goram couldn't help a short bark a laughter escaping him. "In case you didn't notice, I'm the slave now." He said, raising his chained hands for emphasis.

"Which is why we need to make a plan to escape." Sweet agreed.

He was cute in his earnestness. As much as Goram wished there was a chance, he couldn't allow himself or Sweet to fall prey to such foolishness.

"There will be no escape." He explained gently. "Because there is nowhere to escape to."

Sweet blinked at him, his eyes first full of denial and then slowly fear. "What about the Black Spire?" he asked.

"Fallen a month ago." Goram answered calmly. It had been the Dark Queen's secret sanctum, hidden away in the mountains of her domain. It had been sabotaged and destroyed by the heroes who had ultimately killed the Queen herself when they looked for her there.

"The caverns? The swamp camp? The silent mine?" Sweet named other places Goram had been posted to and each time he shook his head.

"Those prisoners out there where your humans picked me up, they are pretty much the only survivors, Sweet." Goram said. "We have nowhere to run to. It's over."

"No!" Sweet growled. "I'm not going to accept that. You have always protected me and now I will protect you. I know you are not the beasts they say you are. She controlled you, you had no choice but to do her will."

Part of that was true. For Goram at least. But there were plenty of the Dark Queen's minions who would have fought for her even without her controlling them. It simply was their nature. Not of those who still survive still. Those who carried the beast in their heart had fought to the very end, none of them had laid down their weapons when Goram gave the order. But in the beginning, when it looked like they might win, before he witnessed how evil the Queen truly was, he had fought willingly enough.

Sweet's words stirred another thought, though. "Like you controlled me." He said, looking at his elfling with sudden suspicion. "How did you do that?"

Sweet shrugged, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I don't really understand it either. Apparently a great many years ago the Dark Queen had the holy seer of the elves kidnapped and she somehow stole his magic to use as her own. That is how she controlled the lesser races who served her." He explained. "That is what the elves here told me. When she was defeated, all that magic was freed up and sought another elf to become the next seer. And for some stupid reason, it chose me."

Goram groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. This was all too much.

"That doesn't change anything." His elfling argued with a hint of fear in his voice. "I'm still your Sweet."

Goram looked at him and couldn't help but smile a little at the angry pout that was so very familiar. "Sweet, even if we somehow could escape and had some place to hide, don't you see that they would never stop looking for you?"

"But I don't want to be their seer." Sweet whispered in a small voice and now Goram saw clearly how very scared his elfling was. "I want things to go back to how they were."

With his bound hands Goram couldn't really hug Sweet, like he felt he should, so instead he awkwardly petted his hair. "The past is gone, Sweet, you can't force it to come back. You can only try to make the future what you want it to be."

"I don't want a future without you!"

Once more Goram had to smile as he recalled what Shazar said about his elfling - more stubborn than any troll. "You could keep me around, you know?" He couldn't quite believe that he was suggesting this, but there was no way he would accept his fate and die when Sweet so clearly needed him. "You could keep me as your slave." He should probably have known that it wouldn't be enough to satisfy Sweet.

"But what about the others?" The young elf immediately argued. "I can't just let them die!"

He was right of course. Shazar, who had been Goram's friend as long as he can think back, Werl, who was no more than a child really, and all the others who looked to him for guidance and protection, he couldn't just forget about them and pretend he could be a good little slave.

"Why are they still alive anyway?" he asked. The question had been bugging him too much.

"The dwarf spoke out for them." Sweet answered unexpectedly. "The champion who killed the Dark Queen. I don't know how, but he knows orcs aren't just dumb beasts. He has been arguing with the leaders of the alliance since you were taken prisoner. To let you live and give you a chance to prove you are not monsters."

Goram blinked in surprise. That was pretty much the last person he would have thought they owed their lives to.

Sweet looked thoughtful. "Maybe we should talk to him." He suggested. "I mean, we are great proof of what he is saying. Or maybe he will at least try to help, he seems sympathetic enough."

It took Goram a moment to identify the strange tingle in his heart, a moment to realize that it was hope, where he had only seen death just a short time ago. He nodded. "It's a chance at least." He agreed.

Sweet's smile was radiant with joy. It looked like he wanted to say a million more things, but then he just leaned forward and kissed Goram. He was right, after all, Goram thought feeling oddly content, he would gladly be whatever Sweet needed him to be - slave or master - as long as he was with his elfling.


End file.
